Masculine
by Vain-Grayson
Summary: Helped along by unwitting classmates, Harry has a crisis about his masculinity... or lack thereof. But with the aid of Ron and Hermione, he learns that manliness isn’t always a virtue. A friendship fic and humorous look at teenage self-identity. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Helped along by unwitting classmates, Harry has a crisis about his masculinity... or lack thereof. But with the aid of Ron and Hermione, he learns that manliness isn't always a virtue.

Author Note: This is a trio friendship fic inspired by the thought of what if Harry was pretty and petite (without too much exaggeration on those features), but not gay. How would he deal with the sudden realisation that he is effeminate? This story is written _**not**_ to make fun of slash stories. I do like slash stories. It is written, rather, as a way to torment Harry.

In this story there will be a lot of discussion of homosexual situations; however, there won't be much follow-through. Also, Harry is, arguably, a bit out of character. But only a bit.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make money writing this.

Based in the beginning of the fifth year:

***

Masculinity

Chapter One

Harry's crisis started with that prick, Malfoy. Or rather, it started as a prank. Actually, it probably started when the Weasely twins decided it would be a good idea to invent _highly amusing_ prank items and then sell them to vindictive students. However it happened, Draco Malfoy was now temporarily infatuated with his schoolyard nemesis, which undoubtedly led into the steady progression of poor Harry's crisis.

_The culprit?_ A scorned girl and a Weasely Wizarding Wheezes product that boasted wholesome fairytale love. _The completely innocent victim in this whole mess?_ Harry Potter. If the scorned girl was angry enough at Malfoy to make him fall in fairytale-love with his arch-rival, then he probably had it coming. The stupid bastard.

"Eyes as emerald and lively as forest foliage, lips as ruby and blossoming as the sweetest roses, skin as fair and clear as virgin snows and hair as black and silky as the darkest midnight hour," Draco Malfoy sang out. "The loveliest of them all, splendour compared to none."

Harry's face flushed. "_What_?" he hissed. He whipped around, staring in horror at Malfoy. He was expecting to be insulted, maybe hexed, not serenaded with romantic poetry.

Malfoy dropped to one knee, his eyes glazed over. "Harry your beauty captivates even the most heavenly angels, and they sing in your exquisite glory." He captured Harry's hand and kissed it fervently until Harry managed to wrench it away.

"Malfoy?" spoke Ron, slowly and a little unsure from behind Harry. The rest of the Gryffindor fifth year stood there, in dumbfounded disbelief.

He ignored him and continued. "No enchanted mirror is needed my flower, you are the fairest of them all." He smiled charmingly at Harry. "You are Snow-White with the seven Gryffindorks. May I be your prince and kiss our tender love alive."

Immediately Dean and Hermione began to dissolve in laughter, Hermione's bordering on hysterical. The rest looked even more confused than before. But Harry looked ready to die in mortification.

"Princess Potter," Dean snickered.

Harry who never even remotely connected himself with femininity was suddenly very concerned. He wasn't buff or big and broad shouldered, having a smaller seeker build, but no one had ever mentioned his slight form looking _girly._ Suddenly, he deeply regretted putting on lip chap this morning, hoping his lips didn't actually look ruby. He couldn't believe the nerve of Malfoy suggesting he was effeminate. Didn't he know it _hurt_ to have cracked lips.

Wild and blinded with sudden anger, Harry threw a brash fist at the bastard's face as he stood. The prick easily caught his wrist before he could make contact. And as the love-sick boy gazed down at him, Harry felt their height difference like never before.

If he could have just punched Malfoy really, really hard, it would have solved his problem. What's better than knocking someone who called you a princess flat on their arse when proving your manliness? _Nothing_, that's what. However, Malfoy effortlessly grasping his wrist was quite detrimental to his cause, to put it mildly. Even Hermione had managed to hit the stupid prick.

"Was I too forward?" Malfoy asked, looking honestly befuddled. "I will handle you delicately like you deserve."

Violently trying to shake off Malfoy's hold, Harry felt his face heat with fury and humiliation. "**I'm not delicate or lovely. Do not compare me to flowers and do **_**not**_** suggest in any way I'm like a fairytale princess!**" he thundered.

"If I did not think it would upset you more I would kiss away your distress," the prick stated sadly. He stroke Harry's cheek once before letting go of the struggling boy and walking away, throwing a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Harry had a stormy expression on his face, his whole body trembling in rage and humiliation.

"I wonder what Harry would look like in a dress?" Seamus pondered rather loudly, making the others snigger uncertainly. _The git._

And Harry couldn't face his housemates to reply. The betrayal had hit too hard. _Some friends._ He felt Ron's large hand rest on his shoulder, feeling as if his much taller and broader body was dwarfing his.

"You're trembling," Ron voiced hesitantly.

He twisted around to face Ron, about to reply but stopping short at Ron's expression. Ron's countenance was tentative and his eyes gentle, almost like he was inferring that Harry was indeed delicate. The expression increased ten-fold as he caught sight of Harry's dismayed expression. "I'm not feminine," he finally grounded out after a pause.

Hermione stepped up beside him, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders. "It isn't necessarily bad to be considered pretty," she said. He stepped sharply away from her in dismay, stumbling back into Ron who caught him. Hermione just affirmed his worse fears. Taking the chance to look up at Ron, who was still holding him straight, he caught him squinting at him, eyes searching. Ron's eyes widen in recognition and his ears turned bright red. A sensation of doom fell heavily in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"Harry isn't pretty," Ron quickly said, but even Harry could sense the lie. "You're a prime example of... masculinity." He cleared his throat awkwardly as Lavender and Parvati giggled.

"No, he's _beautiful_," Seamus said smirk implanted on his face.

"Go to hell!" Harry spat. He forced himself to walk away in slow and controlled steps, watching as all but Ron and Hermione seemed highly amused. Even good old Neville couldn't suppress a nervous giggle. He sent a stray spell behind him, which, if the outrage cry was any indication, had hit Seamus

***

Harry was sulking in bed, bed curtains tightly drawn. "Harry, don't let them get to you," Ron urged sympathetically. "Come down to dinner. Hermione and I won't let anyone say anything else about you being girly."

Harry remained silent. And Ron must have felt ridiculous standing in front of the closed bed curtains, feeling as if he was speaking to himself, because he angrily pulled them open to reveal the pathetic sight of Harry curled despondently on his side. "I think you're fine the way you are. No one actually thinks you need to look manlier."

"I just found out I look like a bloody girl," Harry mumbled into his pillow, "I can't just get over that."

"I don't think you look like a girl. But I can understand why Malfoy did. He does hang around Parkinson, and it's hard not to be prettier than her. Looks like a dog, that one."

Harry fought a smile. "I know I'm overreacting," he confessed, "but I always hoped what the Dursley's said was all lies. I can't help but think what if they were right about me all along."

"I've seen your relatives, and no offense, they are butt ugly. You can't take what they say to heart, especially when it comes to looks. And after all, being unreasonably cute has its advantages. You always get the last piece of cake from my mum." Ron sat at the edge of the bed, and Harry rolled over to face him.

Harry would have felt comforted if it wasn't for the strange look on Ron's face. The new softness and wonderment in his expression upset Harry more than the others calling effeminate did. "You promise you don't think of me differently now?" he asked.

"You'll always be Harry to me," Ron reassured.

He knew Ron was being sincere in his intentions. The bewilderment of him being slightly prettier than Ron had previously noted would wear off with time, he was sure. "I am getting hungry," he admitted with a grin. In the meantime, Harry would just have to prove his masculinity.

"I'm thinking of shaving my head," Harry announced at dinner to Ron and Hermione.

Hermione dropped the fork she was holding, and twisted in her seat to stare at him. "That would be dreadful, Harry," she protested.

"My hair gives me nothing but trouble."

Ron rolled his eyes from the other side of Harry. "Don't be daft Harry. Being bald won't help a thing. You won't look manlier, only funnier," he reasoned brusquely.

"I wasn't thinking of that," he lied unconvincingly. "My hair is just a nuisance."

"You look perfect the way you are, as lovely in the inside as the out." Hermione smiled consolingly. Both boys looked uncomfortably away and back towards their potatoes.

Across the table separate from the three, Dean and Seamus sat together, conversing in whispers. "You heard about the Weasley twins' new product?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I just bought Bawling Bon Bons," Seamus answered.

"Did you test them yet? I hear they are super effective."

Seamus grinned deviously. "I certainly am not going to eat one. But I know who could test one for me," he said, furtively glancing over at Harry.

"You're going to pick on poor Harry?"

"It's just a harmless prank. And he was being an ass. He seared off my eyebrows," he said as he quickly squirted the syrupy inside of a large chewy candy in Harry's goblet. No one paid any attention, but Dean, who shook his head in exasperation. "It will wear off in about fifteen minutes," Seamus assured.

It was few minutes later when Harry finally drank from his goblet. At first Harry's lower lip began to quiver and his eyes became tellingly shiny. Soon his breaths came in short gasps.

"Are you alright there, mate?" Ron asked worriedly, catching Hermione's attention.

He silently nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Harry was extremely worried he was turning into a girl. First the effeminate looks he did not outgrow, and then the unexplained urge to be emotional and blubber. He knew he wasn't being fair to females in general, but it was the only reasonable explanation.

The tears came in a sudden and violent rush, and he could not stop them. Covering his face in his hands, he felt his whole body shudder.

"Harry, what's wrong," Hermione gently asked, touching his shoulder.

"I-I-I d-don't know!" He felt beyond mortified and ashamed. What happened to proving his masculinity? He buried his face in Ron's shoulder sobbing as Hermione rubbed his back soothingly. By this time most if not all of the Gryffindor table was staring blatantly at him.

Ron glanced around nervously. "Shush Harry. You need to stop crying to get out of here." That was painfully true; unless he wanted to walk pass all of the other houses weeping hysterically to the doors. The very notion of it made Harry cry harder.

Nervously, Ron took his napkin and lifting Harry's chin, clumsily began wiping the never-ending tears. Hermione continued rubbing his back making the appropriate noises of comfort.

"Kill me now," Harry whimpered between gasping sobs. "If there is any fairness on this earth..."

And Harry's world went black.

With a gasp Harry abruptly came to. But his friends weren't paying him any mind; too busy arguing amongst each other. But currently Harry couldn't care, too preoccupied with the sheer relief he felt from now having ceased sobbing and being comfortably in the privacy of his dorm, once more lying on his bed. He really shouldn't have left it. _For the love of Merlin's beard_, why did he listen to Ron?

"That was inappropriate, Ron!" Hermione scolded, her wand still pointed at Harry. She must have just enervated him. Harry pulled himself in a sitting position, curiously listening to the heated discussion held over top of his head—Ron standing on one side of the bed, Hermione facing off on the other.

"I don't see why. It solved the problem."

"No it didn't. It avoided the problem."

"Harry was bawling hysterically in the hall. I stunned him. Now he isn't anymore. How is that avoiding the problem?" demanded Ron.

"Obviously Harry has some serious emotional issues, and ignoring them and casting them aside won't make them go away. He's going to need to face them if he's going to get better."

"Not if I can help it," Harry muttered darkly. Both of his friends turned to him, Ron grinning and Hermione scowling. "Good thinking, Ron," he commended.

Ron looked especially pleased, casting Hermione a smug smirk. "Hermione, here, wanted you to discuss all your deep-seeded emotional issues at the dinner table," he said. "Get a good cry out, make a few personal revelations, and come in terms with your inner self and all that other wonky, wish-washy stuff, never mind the hundreds of people staring at you." He gave a dramatic shudder.

"I owe you one," Harry replied solemnly.

"Oh, I give up!" Hermione threw up her arms in exasperation. "But when you're forty and spending a small fortune on therapy, you'll be sorry you didn't listen to me," she warned, shaking her fist furiously.

"And she thinks you have the issues," Ron said in a stage whisper. "I fear it's projection."

"Ugh," she cried. She whirled around and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath. "You guys are unbelievable. Why do I even bother at all?"

Harry and Ron watched her go in silence. After a moment's pause they turned to face each other wide-eyed and amused...

...and they laughed until they were gasping for breath and both had tears streaming down their cheeks, until their hysterical laughter sounded possibly several octaves higher than Lavender's and Pavarti's girly giggles, until they were collapsed on the bed, falling all over each other, until Harry didn't care about all of that and everything else, and neither did Ron. And _that_ was all the emotional therapy Harry felt he would ever need.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Thank-you for the reviews. I am so glad people seem to think that I kept Harry more or less in character.

In this chapter, more characters are introduced into the debacle and Harry comes up with a brilliant plan.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Masculine: Chapter II

The next morning, Harry did not feel that a good laugh was enough to get over being emasculated publically. By breakfast time Malfoy's love potion had worn off and everyone knew that Harry Potter hadn't really seduced his most hated classmate. But the damage was already done.

When Harry walked in the great hall, Malfoy blushed heavily and avoided his gaze. The only benefit to this whole situation was that the one person in Hogwarts who would find the greatest joy out of mocking him wouldn't dare to. However, he was Harry Potter and there was a whole mass of people who would be almost just as gleeful to make his life a living hell, or so it sometimes seemed.

For example, Zacharias Smith was approaching with a broad cocky grin. "My friend over there, Potter, would like to ask you out... on a date," he said intercepting Harry on his way to the Gryffindor table.

"Oh," Harry replied. He thought it would be worse—unless... Harry turned to see who Smith was pointing to at the Hufflepuff table. A boy in the year above Harry was waving enthusiastically at Harry and Smith. "_Oh_," he repeated. "I really have to say no. But, um...I am flattered. I'm sorry. _No._"

"Still hung up over Malfoy? You do realise it was only a love potion, don't you?"

"I know that! And no, that is not why I am refusing. I am not interested in your friend or any other boys for that matter." Harry pushed past him to take his seat at the breakfast table.

Smith turned to his friend, giving him an apologetic shrug, mouthing _sorry_ to him. His friend did seem to be quite disappointed, which made Harry feel a little bad. He knew how it felt to be rejected. But then he realised that he was being ridiculous.

"That boy was Devon Armstrong," Hermione told him. Harry hadn't seen her watching the whole incident from her seat.

"What?"

"That boy who Smith asked you out for, his name is Devon Armstrong."

"Hermione, are you trying to make me feel guilty for rejecting him?" Harry asked, puzzled. She did not look disappointed in him, but you never knew. Hermione had an odd moral code and could become upset over things others would easily overlook.

"Heavens no," she said. "He doesn't even know you that well. And you were nice enough about turning him down. Just thought you would like to know the name of the guy who fancies you. He has liked you for awhile now." Hermione didn't even look up from the _Daily Prophet_ she was reading.

Harry was alarmed. "Why?!—no wait, don't answer that. I rather not know."

"Being liked by a guy won't emasculate you, Harry. He's gay; he doesn't want a guy to replace a girl. He was wants a bloke."

"So you're saying he fancies me because I am manly?" Harry asked sceptically.

Hermione lowered the newspaper so she could roll her eyes at him. "I am saying he likes you because you are a male with admirable and attractive attributes."

"What's going on?" Ron said while squeezing in next to Harry. He looked from Harry's furrowed brow of consternation to Hermione's expression of exasperated patience.

"Harry was just asked out," Hermione said.

"Oh?" Ron helped himself to some eggs.

"Yeah," Harry said, "Smith just came up to me and—"

"Wait, wait!" Ron exclaimed. "There are many Smiths in Hogwarts. You're going to have to be more specific."

Harry nodded and started again, "Zacharias Smith came up to me—"

"You're taking the mickey out of me, aren't you!"

"No wait, Ron, let me finish. He was asking me out for a friend."

Ron calmed and grinned widely. "Asked out already, mate, and it's only breakfast." He frowned once more. "It's not Malfoy again, is it?"

"The love potion has worn off, and, furthermore, Malfoy isn't friends with Smith," Hermione said. "It was Devon Armstrong."

"I don't think I recognise the name. Who is she?"

"She's the tall bloke with curly brown hair sitting beside Smith at the Hufflepuff table," Harry said listlessly.

"_Her_—I mean, _him!_" Ron cried out, flinging the eggs that he had scoped up on his fork into Neville's hair. Still half asleep, Neville did not notice. "This has gone too far if people are now harassing you!"

"Don't be ridiculous Ron. Devon has liked Harry for a long time, but Harry has politely turned him down, so I'm sure that will be the end of it."

"But—"

"No, Ron. You will not have a vendetta out against Devon Armstrong. This will not be like Viktor Krum or Michael Corner, understand?" Hermione said firmly.

Ron mumbled _"Viktor Krum" _angrily under his breath. Louder, he said, "I did not have vendettas against Krum or Corner!"

"I just don't understand why he had to pick today of all days to make his move," Harry said more to distract from an oncoming argument between Ron and Hermione than anything else.

"Well,"—Hermione seemed hesitant here.—"after the whole Malfoy love potion episode and then later you crying in the great hall, people have hypothesized that you're gay and were extremely upset once you found out Malfoy was under the influence of a love potion," she explained in one giant rush. "Just silly rumours, really."

"I knew Armstrong was no good. He was going for the rebound, Hermione!" Ron smiled triumphantly.

"Everyone thinks I was crying over Malfoy! My life is over!"

"Stop being such a drama queen, Harry." Hermione received a dark scowl from Harry.

"I wonder if you'll be asked out by anymore guys," Ron pondered out loud. "They might consider you a trophy boyfriend or something." He seemed genuinely concerned.

"That's it! I am going to prove just how manly and masculine and utterly male I can be!" Harry announced. A few startled heads around the Gryffindor table turned to him. Harry ignored them and started to aggressively serve himself sausage and bacon and ham.

"Neville," Harry added sharply.

Neville jumped. "Y-y-yes, Harry?"

"You have egg in your hair."

"Uh..." he replied.

"_For the love of_..." Harry reached over the table and used his fingers to comb it out for Neville.

"Thank-you, Harry," Neville said with a sheepish grin.

"No problem," he replied good-naturedly.  
Hermione stifled a giggle behind the _Daily Prophet_ and Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice.

***

Meanwhile, Zacharias Smith had returned to the Hufflepuff table to tell his friend the bad news.

"I think he still is broken up about Malfoy," Zach divulged sagely.

"I should've known. I should have waited. He must think I am an insensitive clod for asking him out so soon after he was weeping in the great hall," Devon bemoaned. "Do you think I ruined my chances forever?—I was just so surprised that he was actually gay."

"It's hard to say. He didn't seem too angry. He actually said he was flattered."

"That's a good sign!"

"But he also claimed he wasn't interested in dating anymore. He says he's through with boys."

"That's good too, Zach!"

Zach raised his eyebrows, shaking his head at his friend. "How can that be good? He won't go out with anyone."

"Exactly! He didn't reject me; he just rejected dating for the time being. I still have a chance!"

Zach sighed. "I really don't see what you see in that runty little boy."

"He has gorgeous eyes and the most charming smile. And have you seen him on a broom!" Devon began blissfully. "He's so sweet and brave. He can be so shy and polite but when he gets angry..."

Zach sincerely regretted ever asking. He actually preferred it when Devon was being a love-sick fool over Roger Davies two years back when he first discovered his sexuality. At least then, Devon didn't harbour any hope and was content to just gaze from afar. But now it was confirmed that Harry Potter was queer—more bent than even good ole' Devon if that crying fit over Malfoy was any indication—Devon would be fawning over the Gryffindor till the end of the year. After that, Zach would leave for the summer and then he could wash his hands of the whole affair.

***

First class of the day was Potions, which didn't bode well for Harry's cause. Snape's dungeon classroom was a setting he did not associate with excessive amounts of self-esteem. But if there was one thing for certain about Harry, it was that if he got an idea stuck in his head, he would not let it go until it played through. And if he had to risk losing all of Gryffindor's house points and spending the rest of his life in detention, then so be it.

He explained the rudiments of a plan he came up with to Ron and Hermione. He knew it was half-baked at best, but it was too late to come up with anything better. The matter was urgent and they were already heading to class.

"Harry, that is an idiotic idea."

"I would appreciate some support, Hermione. We supported _Spew_ and we didn't think that was the greatest idea you ever had."

"It's _S.P.E.W.!_ And that was different; it was for a noble cause," Hermione shot back. "You are trying to reclaim your fragile male ego. I honestly expected better from you."

"Ron you'll help me out, right?"

Ron made a noncommittal noise. Harry translated that into: _Sure I would like to help you mate, but if it involves angering Snape and Hermione simultaneously I am too much of a coward to actually be of any real use. _Harry was good at reading between the lines.

Ron's lack of comment left room for Hermione to continue her sermon, "I actually find your whole determination to prove you're a _man_ quite archaic. Being a male is not a superior state of being. We're not in the dark-ages. Not to mention your methods."

Ron decided to redeem himself in Harry's eyes. "Oh, sure, _you_ say that Harry's need to prove his masculinity is stupid and archaic. But what if people were questioning if you were a _girl_?" he challenged. "I bet that wouldn't go over too well with you."

Hermione was saved from answering because they finally arrived at Potion's class. But as they took their seats in the back and she could plainly see that Harry was still resolute, she hissed, "You are hopeless. And if this goes horribly wrong—_which it will_—don't say I didn't warn you."

With this happy encouragement, Harry was ready to commence his plan.

It was rather simple, in truth. All he needed to do was appear manlier than everyone else, and by manlier, he meant more badass. It had been hard to come up with something to do. He already previously covered most of the stereotypical proof of manliness bases. He had battled dark wizards, rescued damsels in distress, battled dragons and giant spiders, won international tournaments and was a kick-ass quiditch player on top of all that.

"Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace," Snape told the class. "It may be used to calm extreme hysteria." Snape's dark eyes shifted menacingly towards Harry. "Though usually reserved for more dire cases such as those who are affected by traumatic experiences and intense grief, it could also be used to calm those less mentally stable for less critical reasons—such as teenage unrequited love."

Everyone's head turned towards Harry. It was a horribly conspicuous display of in unison scrutiny due to the fact Harry sat in the far back corner. He gritted his teeth and attempted to glare everyone down.

Snape, however, decided to put in a few more words for good measure, "And if anyone of you students actually have the capacity to brew this potion, feel free to use it on Potter when the occasion arises again." Malfoy finally found the courage to laugh at him again, and did so raucously.

As they gathered their ingredients from the cupboard, Hermione came to comfort him. "I almost certain it is against the rules for a professor to permit students to forcibly give potions to other students," she reassured.

That was the last straw. It wasn't really what Hermione said, but the fact she was missing the whole point. So with the quick debate deciding between Lavender or Parvati—Hermione was too much of a friend (and Ron would kill him) and he would never go near any Slytherin girl—he decided on Parvati. After last year at the ball, she should have little interest in him as a boyfriend, plus she was right next to him. If he stopped to consider his actions too much, he might not have enough courage to continue.

Harry spun around pulling Parvati to his chest. He put her into a dip and she clutched to the front of his robes in surprise. Leaning down and pausing for a dramatic effect, he planted a solid one on her lips for a mental count of three. They were in full sight in the immediate centre of the classroom.

Once finish the kiss, he gently separated from her and surveyed the room trying to repress the smug smile that was threatening to take over his face. Parvati was absolutely gobsmacked and everyone else was not too far behind. This, of course, did not include Ron and Hermione who knew what he had planned. Hermione was giving him her haughty look of disapproval and Ron looked about ready to explode with laughter.

"Potter, if you are finished with your disgusting display of teenage hormones," Snape, who was the first to recover, snapped, "you can leave this classroom and come back after dinner for the first of two weeks worth of detentions!"

"Gladly," Harry said as he sauntered out of the classroom with a _devil-may-care_ attitude.

"_Fifty points from Gryffindor!_" Snape bellowed after him.

* * *

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Again, thanks for the awesome reviews. As many of you will probably see, you're on the same page as me for the consequences to Harry's plan. Also, the encouragement really has motivated me to keep the characters as canon as possible.

This chapter took me a little longer to write because my brother just came home after a couple weeks away, and it's absolutely impossible to think, never mind write, when he's chattering away in your ear. However, there's a bright side to him being back. He's the absolute best muse I have, especially for humour. Though we share the same sense of humour, he's a lot funnier than I am, (he's going to be a genius at satire when he's a little older). Plus, he's a boy about Harry's age, so I'll always be reminded how a fifteen year old boy thinks.

In this chapter, Harry comes to regret his rash actions and decides to appeal to a wiser more experience source.

* * *

"So, why did you choose to kiss Parvati?" Ron asked. After Potions they had Charms. And since they had a practical period, it was possible to discuss things in relative privacy.

"Honestly?—mostly because she was in a very convenient location," Harry confessed.

"That's horrible!" Hermione cried indignantly. "_Of all the reasons to kiss someone!"_

"It wasn't the only reason. After she had an awful time with me at the ball last year, I am almost certain that she won't be interested in an actual relationship," Harry added to prove that he had thought it through.

"You are an idiot, Harry. Do you know, after you left Potions, that Lavender and Parvati spent the whole time giggling over your kiss? They think you have been secretly in love with her but were too shy to say anything," she reported acidly. "You know those two—if it's romantic they'll believe it. Parvati is currently seeing you with a new set of eyes."

Harry looked to Ron for confirmation. He nodded his head gravely. "They think the kiss was a confession of love."

"Uh... well, this is bad news." Harry swivelled around to look at Parvati. She was staring bashfully back at him through her lashes. She gave him a coy smile and Harry quickly turned back around. "What should I do?"

"Be a _man_, Harry, and face the music," Hermione advised bitingly.

After that there was no talking to Hermione. And Ron was no help either. Instead of saying anything helpful, he just kept expressing his relief that he was never in a situation like the one Harry was in. Harry eventually became so frustrated that he accidentally exploded the mouse he was supposed to make grow a couple of inches. Everyone in a five metre radius of Harry was covered in mouse blood and guts.

The whole class, including Professor Flitwick, all gave him uneasy looks. He had the nagging feeling that he wasn't making a great case for his mental stability.

They were let out of class early so the victims of Harry's exploding mouse could get cleaned up before lunch time.

***

At lunch Harry came up with a solution. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked for Sirius' help earlier. Sirius, in his youth, seemed to be the sort that was in Harry's current situation often. Also, there wasn't a manlier role model Harry could ask for. However, he was a bit stumped on how to actually get around to telling Sirius about the whole fiasco. Harry did put a lot of weight into what Sirius thought of him and the whole situation was more than a little embarrassing.

"I don't want him to think differently of me," he confessed to Ron. Harry didn't bother addressing Hermione as she made revisions to tomorrow's homework; he was pretty certain he had dried up all sources of sympathy with her. It had been impossible to spell out all of the little mouse chunks from Hermione's thick bushy hair and she had to spend her usual pre-lunch library time in the shower washing it out.

"I doubt what others in Hogwarts think will affect Snuffles' opinion of you. Sure, he'll probably be impressed you kissed a pretty girl in Snape's class," Ron said between bites of roast beef. "But Snuffles knows what you look like, so if a bunch of teenagers he doesn't know suddenly decide you're a girl, I reckon he won't care all that much. At most, he'll maybe be offended on your behalf."

Harry was somewhat comforted by his words. On the other hand, he was tempted to point out that Ron viewed him differently now. He still caught his best friend eying him with those strange mystified expressions upon his face. He quite decidedly didn't say anything about it, though. When things were awkward between you and the rest of the student population and your other best friend was beyond peeved at you, you don't go around saying things that could potentially lead to weirdness between you and your best friend.

"Ron's right you know," Ginny butted in out of nowhere. Harry hadn't notice her sitting on the other side of Hermione.

"He is?" Harry blankly said, surprised to see someone else joining in on the conversation.

"Shocker, isn't it?" she replied. "But, yeah, Ron's right: Snuffles won't care. It's really no big deal that you're gay. At first I was a little taken aback. Now it just seems to make sense."

"I'm not gay, Ginny. Not that there is anything wrong with being gay. But I'm not."

"Bisexual?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am sure!"

"You don't fancy boys, not even a little? Everyone would be okay with it if you did."

"Ginny, he's not gay," Ron intoned wearily. "Besides, he just kissed Parvati in Potions."

"I thought that was merely a very transparent tactic to deny your homosexuality. It's obvious you had no interest in her before."

"Er..." Harry said. In many ways, that was sort of true—minus the actually being gay part. He really should have put more thought into his plan. But he couldn't admit that because, though Hermione was pretending to ignore their exchange, homework review rarely made her _that_ self-satisfied.

"Yesterday at dinner," Ginny said slowly. "Why were you bawling your eyes out if not for Malfoy?"

"I don't know. Stress?" he suggested tentatively. "I didn't feel overwhelmingly upset at the time—only annoyed." He knew his face must be obnoxiously bright red by now.

"He was perfectly fine just moments before," Ron recalled.

Ginny's face suddenly lit up in realization. "Harry, by any chance did you eat any strange sweets at dinner."

"I know better than that with George and Fred around."

"Either way, I think you may have been a victim of one of their joke products."

"Does this product turn you into an overemotional girl?" he asked.

Ginny gave him an incredulous stare. "No," she said. "It's called _Bawling Bon Bons _and they make you have a crying fit for a brief period of time. The rest of the 'overemotional girl' act is all you, Harry."

He gave her his best irritated glare. She rolled her eyes in amusement. Despite feeling mildly affronted, Harry could not stay too irate now that he had a reasonable explanation for his fit last evening. He had tried to put the whole episode in the back of his mind as a onetime thing, but if he was to be completely frank with himself, it had troubled him.

***

On the other side of the great hall, the news of Harry's surprise kiss had reached the Hufflepuff table. But, it was evident that, unlike Parvati and Lavender, most of the school had taken up a theory similar to the one Ginny had on Harry's motivations.

"I don't see why he bothered trying. Everyone already knows he's gay."

"I think he has gone completely around the bend. He's one more emotional outburst away from St. Mungo's," Zach said. "Devon, you should forget about him. He's even more of an attention-seeking prat than I thought."

"Maybe he doesn't have enough support. He must be frightened to come out of the closet; it's harder when you're famous, you know." Devon allowed his eyes to wander over to the Gryffindor table where Harry looked rather put-out by a redheaded girl. "I should offer my encouragement; after all, I know what it feels like. He'll feel better in the end if he accepts who he is."

"I think you should have nothing to do with Harry 'I-like-to-explode-small-animals' Potter."

"I'm sure the Charms class mouse carnage is an unfounded rumour," Devon protested. "You know you can't ever trust Hogwarts' gossip."

***

The rest of Harry's classes weren't any less awful. Divination had been a nightmare. Lavender and Parvati had convinced Professor Trelawney to dedicate the day's class to the prediction of a person's 'soul mate', which was determined by the examination of a person's various body parts. Instead of the usual untimely and horrible death forecast, Trelawney predicted Harry would fall madly and deeply in love with a pretty Gryffindor girl with dark eyes that he was acquainted with. This was according to a large swooping line on his left palm and a funny bump on the back of his skull. The prediction had inordinately pleased Parvati and embarrassed Harry. By the latter half of the class he was tempted to confess to being gay if it would stop Parvati and Lavender from squealing over their future children, (two boys and a girl if the difference in the length between his index finger and middle finger had anything to say about it).

And by the time the last class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts, rolled around, Harry was more than ready to kiss anyone else, girl _or_ boy, to prove he was _not _in love with Parvati. For the very first time Harry was, if not glad, a little less resentful that Umbridge conducted her entire class in perfect note-taking silence.

Currently, he was too afraid to sit in the common room and risk witnessing Parvati planning their wedding or naming their children. Harry was hiding in his dorm, struggling to write a letter to Sirius before dinner.

He settled on a quick note without the awkward details:

_Dear Snuffles,_

_I hope you're doing better than me. These last couples of days have been terrible._

_I need your advice. How do you turn down a girl who you might've led on and now thinks the two of you are in love? And also, I have a friend who thinks he needs to prove his masculinity after a few unfortunate mishaps. How might you go about doing that?_

_Please write back quickly if you can. It's urgent._

_Best Wishes,_

_Harry_

***

Down in the common room, Ron and Hermione sat together. Hermione was knitting and Ron was making a mess of his half-finished Transfiguration essay.

"I am really worried about Harry," Ron revealed, while not looking at Hermione.

"Worried?" Hermione paused her knitting, alarmed. "Has his scar been acting up again?"

"No, or at least I don't think so." Ron was looking uncomfortable. "I don't like the attention he's getting for being... _you know_." He made a vague motion in the air with his hand.

"Pretty?"

"Or something like that."

"Nothing has changed. There's no need to worry."

"It just makes things weird," Ron grumbled.

"Has Seamus been teasing you about your relationship with Harry?" she intuitively guessed. She had seen the lecherous smirk Seamus had given Ron when he and Harry were loudly discussing what they would do this Hogsmeade weekend. Ron's ears had gone bright red but Harry hadn't notice. Harry was too occupied checking to see that Parvati overheard that he had plans that did not involve her.

"He may have made a few comments," Ron reluctantly admitted.

"So this is why you're sitting down here with me, because you don't want to be alone in the dorm with Harry if Seamus should know."

"I—I do like spending time with you too," Ron muttered.

Hermione felt a burst of warm elation in her stomach, though she knew she was being utterly silly. It was obvious that her accusation was mostly accurate and Ron was merely avoiding Seamus' implying eyes.

"Besides, Harry is busy writing a letter to Sirius and wanted quiet," he added offhandedly.

_Or that could be why._ Hermione sighed to herself and returned to her knitting. She was about to offer a pearl of wisdom to Ron along the lines of _ignore Seamus_, but Harry chose that moment to return to the common room.

"Oi, Harry, where are you going?" Ron called out to him as Harry made a beeline pass them and towards the portrait hole.

"To the owlery," he answered, jumping over a first year. Lavender had spotted him; it was just a matter of time before Parvati would too.

Ron scrambled to his feet, only pausing to make certain that Seamus wasn't paying any attention. "I'll come with you. I'm desperate for a break from this essay." He followed Harry out of the common room before Hermione could even utter a sound of protest.

_"Didn't even have the decency to say goodbye,"_ Hermione mumbled to herself, angrily jabbing away at her knitting needles.

* * *

To Be Continued...

A/N: I would like to note that the Divination methods of predicting the 'soul mate' do have a source. Palm reading is rather obvious. The examining the shape of a person's skull used to be considered a 'scientific' way to determine personality. The difference in the of length of fingers, I think I once heard that it can tell you how much testerone a person has, (though I assume it doesn't really). And since testerone is important for reproduction, I thought it would be good way to predict future children.


	4. Chapter 4

This is the second last chapter of the story. Unfortunately it took me forever and a day to post this, but since the last chapter is already written, it will come in a couple days, with a marvelously happy ending attached. And I also like to say that though I like to playfully reference canon, I won't accelerate any canon plot developments. I want this story's events to could have plausibly happened in the beginning of fifth book. Sort of like a week that JKR didn't bother mentioning.

In this chapter, I finally earn my Teen rating through rude Slytherins and their inappropriate language. Hermione messes up. Devon comes to Ron's and Hermione's rescue. And angsty, moody Harry briefly shows his face.

* * *

Chapter Four

Halfway to the owlery Harry and Ron ran into Malfoy and his cronies. The stupid Slytherin git, the indirect instigator of the disaster, had apparently fully recovered from the love potion humiliation. Malfoy found it was easier to deal with now that everyone thought Harry was haplessly in love with him and he was a mere victim of bad luck. And as he stood before Harry—Crabbe and Goyle lingering in the background, looking vaguely uncomfortable—Malfoy held himself in a manner that suggested a person who was fully aware that he was lusted after. He was posing against the corridor wall with feigned flippancy, throwing in the occasional cavalier flex of his muscles, here or there.

Harry would have found this highly amusing if it hadn't been so abjectly horrifying. Ron also appeared to be stuck somewhere between disbelief and disgust.

"_Potter_," he drawled as he slowly pushed himself off the wall and sauntered closer to the two Gryffindors.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry spat.

"I know what _you _want," he replied silkily. "You finally regret subjecting yourself to those inferior beings."

"Not really," Harry answered coolly.

"Are you telling me you would prefer to suck those _filthy_ blood traitors' cocks?"

"_I don't want to_—" Harry was at a lost on how to finish that sentence. Being considered gay was one thing. But putting yourself into the... _mechanics_ of being gay was a whole other quiditch game.

"You're _sick_, Malfoy, absolutely _**sick**_!" Ron interjected in Harry's stead, once Ron had ceased spluttering in outrage.

"I always wondered why you insisted on associating with the Weasels and their pigsty of a home. Weasel, here, has, what—a dozen brothers?"

"You perverted snake, you watch your mouth!" Ron began to take some menacing steps forwards.

"I bet you and your brothers really can—"

"You and your father working for Voldemort may have twisted your pathetic subservient mind," Harry cut in savagely. "But what you Deatheaters get up to in your gatherings is not what other wizards do."

The confrontation disintegrated from words to wands here.

***

"Hey, Harry, what you implied... it isn't true, is it?" Ron asked as they entered the owlery. Malfoy and his cronies were jinxed, hexed, cursed and incapacitated to Harry's and Ron's immense satisfaction and were left in an alcove to be found by someone else. "About the Deatheater meetings?" Ron clarified at Harry's blank expression.

"Uh..." Harry said. He frowned. Thinking about Voldemort and his Deatheaters in a homoerotic orgy was just about the most disturbing and repugnant thought Harry could ever think. Personally, he considered Voldemort to be an asexual being, especially after he began his transformation into the hideous monstrosity he currently was. Nonetheless, most of his motivation for believing Voldemort asexual was to keep his own sanity. (He had seen the man naked and it wasn't pretty.)

Yet, admitting that he made entirely false accusations kind of made winning the fight a hollow victory, so Harry said, "If I knew that they did for sure, I'd probably _obliviate_ myself. I don't know what Voldemort does in his spare time, but you never know—he's a sick bastard."

Ron shuddered, affected by both Harry uttering You-Know-Who's name and the mental picture involuntarily conjured. "Let's not speak of this again."

Harry vehemently agreed. Obliviating himself wasn't looking like a bad idea.

At this point, Harry didn't think anything worse could be hypothesized about him and his sexuality unless people began to think Harry got a piece of the action in those imagined kinky Deatheater meetings. But that was far too absurd and sickening even for Hogwarts' gossip mongers.

***

Hermione was at a level of irritation rarely seen this early in the year before the stress of impending examinations was in full effect. Once she had been abandoned in the common room by Ron, she was immediately assailed by Lavender and Parvati, left to deal with what Harry was too inept to face. She attempted to be evasive to their inquiries about Harry's affections. After all, it was not her duty to break Parvati's heart on his behalf. Her and her dorm mates' relationship was strained enough as it was. Harry may be able to avoid them, but that was not an option for her. She would not be the 'uptight, stuck-up bitch' this time.

Hermione wasn't infallible and sometimes she said things, in hindsight, she came to regret. But it could hardly be said that she could've predicted at the very same moment she caustically (and sarcastically) suggested that Ron and Harry may be in love with each other that Malfoy was spreading similar, though more vulgar, news throughout the school in retribution to the earlier fight.

However, in their usual obtuse manner, Lavender and Parvati refused to believe what didn't suit them while concurrently turning poignantly ironic statements into incongruous fact. And they eventually reasoned that it was _Ron_ who was in love with Harry, quite unrequitedly. It was at this moment Hermione realized she might have made a grave error in judgement.

Lavender and Parvati left her to her knitting, ominously animated with excited whispers and giggles. She squelched down the defensive urge to protest that Ron was _not_ in love with Harry. Hermione could only hope that Harry and Ron would eventually forgive her.

***

After they sent out Harry's letter with Hedwig, Harry and Ron went immediately to dinner. Hermione was already present at their usual section of table. She watched her two friends approach; both seemed much lighter at heart than earlier. In fact, they were smiling and conversing quite enthusiastically with each other completely oblivious to the Slytherin's innuendoes.

Hermione had been devastated when she surmised that Parvati and Lavender must have somehow informed enough of the school of Ron's and Harry's 'romance' that it spread to the Slytherins. It did not occur to her that the Slytherins may have come to that conclusion independent of Parvati's and Lavender's influence.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Harry asked when she continued to frown intensely at their approach.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "I just think we should try a new seating arrangement today."

Harry and Ron exchanged bemused looks. "If you want," Ron said slowly.

"Sit on the right of me, Ron. And Harry, you sit on my left," she directed. She pulled Ron bodily down by the arm into the seat when he did not seat himself fast enough.

"Are you trying to prevent someone from sitting next to you?" Harry asked, a little alarmed.

Hermione shook her head. "I just believe that too much routine stagnates the mind."

"Our lives are not exactly ordinary and routine."

"And that is why we should continue to practice adaptability to all situations, Harry."

"That's stupid. It doesn't matter where we sit and eat as long as we get food," Ron bluntly argued.

"It does matter!" she retorted heatedly. "You may not know it, but you use everyday habitual routines as security blankets. This is especially so because, daily, we face so much uncertainty and fear outside of our control. And, if you don't want to find yourself paralyzed by the sudden loss of a security blanket, then you better _change where you're sitting_!" Hermione realized, intellectually at least, that the whole point of switching their typical seating arrangement was not to psychologically prepare them for wartime uncertainty, but to make Ron and Harry look less like a couple. However, sometimes Ron simply infuriated her with his denseness and inability to see the obvious need of some actions.

"Trust me; I won't have a mental breakdown if one day I have to sit somewhere else." Ron made his voice high-pitched and fluttered his hands about: "_Oh no, You-Know-Who stole my beloved chair, now I have to surrender to him!_"

"You never know what may trigger a panic response! It could be anything!"

"Uh..." Harry said cautiously, "I don't really think about where we sit, but if you think it'll help."

Both Ron and Hermione seemed disgruntled; however, the matter was dropped. And as Ron and Harry began an enthusiastic conversation overtop of Hermione, Hermione suddenly remembered, with an annoyed pang, why she preferred not to sit between the two boys during meal times. They seemed to both to be speaking directly into her ears obnoxiously loud about quiditch, and whenever one of them illustrated an especially compelling point with their hands, elbows knocked into hers as she attempted to manoeuvre her fork and knife in a civilised manner. Hermione realized that she was the one who desperately missed their usual seating arrangement.

***

Harry wasn't there when Ron was first confronted with the new rumours. His alleged boyfriend had left dinner early to serve his detention with Snape. Almost immediately after Harry left, Hermione rushed Ron through his pudding to escape the great hall.

"Because no one else will date Weasel and Potter, they had to turn to each other," Pansy Parkinson said loudly to her housemates as Ron and Hermione strolled by the group of Slytherin girls loitering outside the great hall's doors. Ron immediately stiffened and reddened. He was never good at confronting the taunts of other students like Harry was, which was strange considering that he had five older brothers, two of them being Fred and George, and one very impudent little sister. A person would think he'd be use to teasing.

"Oh my god, he's blushing—it must be true," another girl snickered. Ron kind of wished he wasn't so frozen in blank alarm so he could pretend he was red with censure and not complete humiliation. Hermione wasn't much help either. He appreciated that she was devastated on his behalf, but, if she could move past the devastation and move on to the laugh in their faces and tell them it's all lies, that would be brilliant. Really, her horrified silence was only fuelling their conviction.

"Back off, sluts!" a voice finally cut into the condemning giggles of the girls. Ron did not know if he should be relieved or not to have this boy, who had an air of exaggerated sassiness, come help him. "Go apply on some more makeup, your bitch is still showing."

"_Faggot_," a girl muttered. The boy, a Hufflepuff going by his tie, rolled his eyes and the Slytherin girls dispersed.

The boy turned a disarmingly bright grin towards Ron. "Thanks...for the help," Ron said after a few awkward moments.

"Devon Armstrong," he introduced himself, gripping Ron's hand in a surprisingly firm handshake.

"Ron Weasley... Aren't you the guy who—"

"—asked out your boyfriend? Yes. I'm sorry," he replied pleasantly. "I am completely mortified by that, now. Please, don't hold it against me."

"He's not my boyfriend," Ron said with a scowl. "We're just friends."

"It's true," Hermione finally piped up.

"So I'm not stepping on any toes if I pursue him?"

"_Look_, Armstrong"—Ron puffed out his chest and pulled himself up taller in an attempt to look intimidating—"this _Harry Potter is gay_ business is a load of crap. I'd appreciate it if you pursued someone who'd actually be interested."

Armstrong crossed his arms over his chest. "It is such a disappointment to the gay witch and wizard community that the Boy-Who-Lived would deny his own nature," he said primly. "It doesn't send a positive message to other young gay wizards out there."

"Harry doesn't have anything against homosexuality," Hermione raced to say. "He isn't homosexual, but he would support the gay community. I am sure of it!" She had an expression on her face that Ron knew all too well. "I know that you're a member of the Gay-Straight Alliance at Hogwarts. I'm sure Harry would love to join it."

Ron didn't bother to point out that Harry probably had better things to be doing than attending meetings to appease people who fell for stupid rumours.

But Armstrong did seem appeased. "GSA was great. Dumbledore really supported us. I would totally encourage more 'straight' people to attend," he said. "However, Umbridge doesn't approve of it—_the under-sexed homophobic bint_. We were shut-down in the first week back."

"I'm so sorry."

"We get by," Armstrong continued conversationally. "Sure, the emotional support available with an official group had been nice, but we're all still good friends. It's just unfortunate we'll never get the chance to do the projects we had planned for this year."

"You shouldn't allow Umbridge to stop you from doing what you think is important. You should attempt to discreetly uphold some of your more achievable goals," Hermione insisted.

From there, the conversation dissolved into topics that Ron wasn't very much interested in. Not that he was too delighted with beginning of the conversation either. However, he did not feel it was necessary to involve himself in Hermione and Armstrong's discussion of hypothetical strategies on how to maintain a secret organisation right under the high inquisitor's nose. It wasn't like he was about to join any underground associations or anything.

***

The next morning at breakfast, both Ron and Hermione insisted that they maintain the previous evening's seating arrangement, which Harry found a bit odd. From what he had observed, Hermione seemed to have regretted sitting between him and Ron. But Harry was too tired and too miserable to care too much. Last night's detention lasted well past curfew and Snape had continuously made thinly veiled insinuations that Harry's father was a homophobic prick who would probably have disinherited Harry for even glancing at another male. Though Harry's gut instinct was to disbelieve anything Snape said, especially when it concerned his parents, the slimy git had successfully planted a seed of doubt into his mind.

Technically, Harry shouldn't have needed to worry because he _was_ straight. But, despite the fuss he was making about protecting his masculinity, he would've liked to believe that he needn't be the paramount of masculinity to be loved by both his parents. No matter what type of person he turned out to be, he would've liked to believe that their love was unconditional with no catches or exceptions—his manliness and other people's opinions, be damned.

"Is there something wrong with your porridge, Harry?" Hermione gently asked.

"Huh?"

"You've been glaring at it all breakfast," Ron said, leaning in to glance around Hermione's hair.

"I'm just not that hungry," Harry grunted.

"Is this—is this about the new rumours," Hermione questioned hesitantly.

Harry swirled his spoon in his bowl despondently. "What new rumours?" he muttered without any inflection. There would always be new rumours about him and the vast majority was never flattering or remotely true.

"Everyone thinks you and Ron are a couple," Hermione explained.

Harry looked up into his friends' faces. Hermione expression was one of horrible guilt and Ron was blushing a deep maroon. "It doesn't matter," Harry said glumly. "People will believe what they want about me. " He pushed away his porridge and stood. "I think I'm finished breakfast."

* * *

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

This is the last chapter of Masculine.

I am pleased with the story, but not completely satisfied. But I don't think any writer should ever be completely satisfied with what they write; that doesn't encourage improvement. So when I write my next story I shall endeavour to make it ten times better than this one.

In this chapter, Sirius' insightful response comes. Devon finally gives up on Harry Potter. Ron doesn't let Seamus get to him. And Harry's crisis is averted. All in all, there is a happy ending.

* * *

Chapter Five

"I'm beginning to think getting involved in Harry Potter's love life was a bad idea," Devon commented as Harry moodily brushed past the Hufflepuff table.

"Nice of you to finally catch on," Zach grumbled. "I've been telling you that all along."

"He's too complicated. I want someone straightforward without all the drama."

"You should date a fellow Hufflepuff. We know how to keep it simple with relationships," Zach suggested.

"Hmm," Devon answered noncommittally. "From what I can tell, he was dating Ron Weasley, but they had a falling out after Harry had a passionate affair with Draco Malfoy. Or at least that's my best guess."

Zach shook his head in disgust. "I wouldn't think you would want to get mixed up with that sort of person."

"I think I'm only going to try to date people who're out of the closet. All this hiding and denial isn't good for a potential romance."

"If a person wanted to be discreet with their relationship then that couldn't be too harmful," Zach protested.

"Oh, no," Devon adamantly denied. "I don't want my boyfriend to hide that he's with me. I think I deserve better than that."

"I mean it wouldn't be like he was ashamed of you. Maybe he would prefer the privacy of keeping his business to himself."

Devon peered pensively at Zach. "As the ex-closeted gay, I think I know best what a person's motivation is when hiding their sexuality."

"Not everyone can be as self-assured as you, Devon," Zach muttered into his breakfast.

Devon didn't say anything to that.

***

Harry's wretched mood did not abate for the rest of the day. He avoided Parvati and Ron avoided him. And Hermione was strangely tolerant of his surliness. It was like he had feared; his best friends were treating him differently. He didn't even want to prove his masculinity all that much anymore. He just wanted everything to be back to normal. Underneath all the rumours and alleged femininity, he was still Harry and he wanted someone to acknowledge that. His detention that evening with Snape only served to fortify the estrangement he felt between how he perceived himself versus how the world perceived him.

The next morning it was a relief to see that Sirius had replied to his letter. It was uncharacteristically long and that alone gave Harry a certain amount of trepidation. But he was always pleased to receive correspondence from his godfather, so Harry read it there at breakfast.

"What did Snuffles say?" Hermione asked as a wide grin spread slowly across Harry's face.

"He just gave me some good advice."

Hermione frowned in consternation, as though she thought Sirius wasn't capable of giving any _good_ advice. "Really?"

Harry hesitated before handing the letter to Hermione. The letter had felt personal and he was illogically reluctant to share it, but he thought his friends might find what Sirius wrote insightful as well. Hermione read the letter and when she finish, her smile was a little less tense. She then handed it to Ron to read. Once he was finished, Ron snorted in amusement as he handed the letter back to Harry.

The letter read:

_Harry,_

_I'm glad you wrote to me for advice. With these types of issues, you'll find I have more than a little experience. It may come to a surprise to you, but back in my school days I was considered a bit of a pretty-boy. Due to that and the close friendship I had with James, some people liked to question my sexual preferences and masculinity. This was a bit disturbing to me because I had considered myself somewhat of a lady's man. And in an attempt to keep this persona, I led on more girls than I care to admit._

_But around my Seventh year, other people's opinions didn't seem as important anymore (a dark wizard trying to take over the world does give you perspective). Occasionally, James and I would play up the reputation, even, for a few laughs. I finally saw the full benefits of being the pretty-boy, by then. And people stopped thinking I was gay, too, because it became clear to them that if I was gay I wouldn't bother denying it—which was true. For one, I know that James and Lily would never stop caring about a loved one no matter their sexuality. So my advice to your friend is, Harry, that the best way to prove your masculinity is to act like you have nothing to prove. Other than being surprisingly very effective, this has the added benefit of not putting you into positions that'll get you in trouble with a girl._

_On that note, after much trial and error, I have found the best solution to turning down a girl you led on is to tell them the least offensive version of the truth, tactfully adding you chose to lead her on because she's the prettiest girl you know. Most girls tend to check if you're telling the truth to them, so elaborate lies are not usually wise, and adding on you think they're prettier than everyone else usually leaves them too flattered to be truly angry at you. _

_Best of luck to you and your friend, Harry,_

_Snuffles_

***

Harry found Parvati before their first class of the day. He felt horrible when she flashed Lavender an excited smile when he asked for word alone with her. But he felt it was best to clear up this whole mess as soon as possible. Also, Hermione, who was looking a lot less contrite, had been nagging him all breakfast and he didn't think he could stand a whole day of that.

He pulled her in a private alcove and said, "I have a confession to make Parvati." She looked so hopeful, Harry instantly regretted his choice of words. "I'm not in love with you, though you're a really great person. It was a stupid plan to prove my...well, my manliness," he continued sheepishly.

Her face began to darken. It was a foreboding mixture of anger and devastation.

"But I kissed you because you were the prettiest," he quickly said. "I mean if I am going to kiss any girl it should be the prettiest. And you are definitely the prettiest out of all the houses and years." Harry tentatively met her eyes. "So I just want to say I'm very sorry and I did not mean to hurt your feelings."

Parvati still appeared to be a little upset, but calling her pretty seem to have the intended effect. Her face softened from almost hysterical to mildly wounded. She sniffed and gave him a lofty look and said, "That's okay. You're not really my type. You're a bit too pretty for my tastes. I prefer to be the only pretty one in the relationship."

Harry frowned but didn't say anything; after all, she deserved to keep some of her pride. Also, he thought he was getting off relatively easy. And there was the added comfort that he didn't _really _think she was the prettiest girl in Hogwarts. But Harry would've never dared to go and kiss Cho Chang.

***

"I think I should move on from Harry," Devon said casually. "They are plenty of blokes not in the closet for me to like." Zach was trailing close behind him.

Zach scowled, which he always did when Devon mentioned boys he fancied. Previously, he had thought it was due to Zach's distaste. Now, he wasn't so certain.

"You don't always need to be trying to get with a boy," Zach said.

"Friendship is nice, but sometimes a wizard needs something more."

"I am content with just friendship." But Zach looked too bitter saying this for Devon to put any credence to his words.

Devon sighed in exasperation. "You are such a coward, Zacharias. Despite your grouchiness, I think you make a great friend and would make an even better boyfriend."

"I don't—"

"Here's my class. You better run if you don't want to be late for Transfiguration, Zach."

Zach looked around nervously to make sure the corridor was empty before clumsily leaning in to sloppily kiss Devon. He then turned and hurried away red-faced.

Devon smiled triumphantly. Though he had better kisses during his disastrous attempt at heterosexuality, back when he was still confused, Devon thought that Zach was the perfect boy to fancy this time around. He could always teach Zach how to kiss.

***

A couple days passed by and the rumours about Harry were dying down. And Harry, following Sirius' advice, did not allow the few whispers that remained to bother him. He, Hermione and Ron were strolling down one of the quieter streets of Hogsmeade enjoying the autumn sunshine.

"Is that Armstrong and Smith?" Hermione said, looking to a pair that was approaching them from the opposite end of the street.

The two were quite obviously holding hands. But when Smith noticed the three approaching them, he slipped his hand out of Armstrong's.

Armstrong pursed his lips and refused to meet anyone's eyes. Even Harry could tell he was rather hurt. And apparently, Smith wasn't oblivious either, because he gritted his teeth and, with a show of monumental inner turmoil, he wrapped an arm around Armstrong's waist. Smith glowered at the three of them, daring them to say anything. Ron glowered back on reflex. However, Hermione and Armstrong exchanged happy grins.

Harry thought that this was one of those exchanges he was best off being clueless about. And after the perfunctory nods to the couple, he continued on to the _Three Broomsticks_ with his friends without any comment on the matter.

***

It was unfortunate that they entered the _Three Broomsticks _just as Seamus and Dean were getting up to leave. Harry, Ron and Hermione ran into the pair in the crowded entrance. Seamus smirked sinisterly in greeting and Dean shrugged apologetically.

"Hermione, I would think you would feel like the third wheel on their date," Seamus said. "I doubt they have it in them to have a ménage trois with a girl."

Harry's hand automatically twitched towards his wand, Sirius' advice preventing any further action (and there was also the fact that he slept in the same room as Seamus to consider). Hermione opened her mouth to retort haughtily. But it was Ron who spoke with a smirk to rival Seamus'. "Come off it, Seamus. You're just jealous that I attract pretty people." He wrapped either arm around Hermione's and Harry's shoulders.

"That's likely," Seamus replied, but his smirk seemed less sure of itself as he left with Dean.

Once they were out of sight, both Harry and Hermione shrugged off his arms. "I think attract is a bit of an exaggeration," Harry observed. Ron merely laughed.

Grinning, Harry went to buy them a round of Butterbeers, leaving Hermione and Ron to find them a seat. Once he came to their table, Ron and Hermione were already in a heated discussion.

"Hermione thinks I shouldn't be so surprised to find out that Smith is gay," Ron said in explanation.

Harry considered this for a moment as he put down the drinks and slid into the free chair. "I would've never guessed it," he admitted.

"See, Hermione. He isn't pretty like Harry—no offence, Harry—and he isn't flamboyant like Armstrong."

"Armstrong is hardly flamboyant."

"_Back off, sluts!" _Ron said in a shrill voice, embellishing the words with an enthusiastic Z-snap. "How is that not flamboyant?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Those are just stereotypes. Just because Smith is attracted to males, it doesn't mean it has to be reflected in the way he acts or looks."

"I just don't understand what Armstrong sees in that prick. They seem to have nothing in common." Ron mulled over the thought while taking a lengthy sip from his drink. "Smith really has no redeeming qualities."

"Well, as long as they're happy together," Harry said.

"Cheers to that, mate," Ron said in agreement.

"Cheers," Hermione reiterated.

The three of them clinked their Butterbeer bottles together. Harry knew for sure that there were worse things in the world than being gay. For instance, he could be gay and in love with Zacharias Smith.

But, in all seriousness, at the risk of sounding extremely corny, he could be regarded as the most feminine man on earth and he wouldn't mind _too _much if he still got to be Harry with his best friends.

--

"What do you mean that you were the one to start the rumours that I was gay with Harry!?"

"It was an honest mistake, Ron. I thought you would find it amusing in hindsight."

"_Amusing?_—It was an honest mistake to drag my name through the mud?"

"Saying you have a deeper relationship with Harry is hardly dragging your name through the mud."

"How would you like it if I told everyone that you and Loony Lovegood are in love?"

"That's not a comparable situation, Ron. Luna and I are completely incompatible..."

Harry sighed, taking a large swig of his drink. Actually, he wouldn't mind if his friends were a bit _less_ of Ron and Hermione when they were with him.

_Fin._

_

* * *

_

I hope you've enjoyed my story.

I couldn't resist making this Zach/omc. I hope no one minds.

I usually don't like oc's but I felt I had no choice in the matter. I wanted the P.O.V. of characters who only knew Harry through rumours and not personally. I wanted an unsympathetic and sympathetic perception of Harry for the sake of plot and contrast. I felt I could use Zach for the unsympathetic character. However, I didn't feel comfortable using any canon characters to make a openly gay and sympathetic character, who also had no previous contact with Harry.

I also decided to make Zach gay as well because, for one, I started feeling a little bad for Devon, and two, to make the point that anyone, even jerks, can be gay and it really does not need to affect characterisation too greatly.

I would love to hear from others what they think of my ending, of Zach and Devon, and how I may improve for the next story I write.


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